


And I Wonder If You Think Of Me

by MistressParamore



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Female Characters, Female Homosexuality, Female Relationships, POV Female Character, femmeslash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-03 09:32:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/696836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressParamore/pseuds/MistressParamore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione has surprised nobody by accepting the recently vacated position of Charms teacher at Hogwarts. What she hasn't told anyone, or even really reconciled herself with, is that part of the reason is a certain ebony haired, Scottish witch. What she decides to do about it, is anyone's guess…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Title** : And I Wonder If You Think Of Me

 **Fandom** : Harry Potter. Post Hogwarts.

 **Rating** : M

 **Pairing** : Minerva McGonagall / Hermione Granger

 **Summary** :  _Hermione has surprised nobody by accepting the recently vacated position of Charms teacher at Hogwarts. What she hasn't told anyone, or even really reconciled herself with, is that part of the reason is a certain ebony haired, Scottish witch. What she decides to do about it, is anyone's guess…_

* * *

Hermione Granger,  _Professor_ Granger for precisely one week, bit her lip as she surveyed herself in her bathroom mirror. At 21 she was young for a teacher, but, in testament to her vast abilities, no one was surprised that she was offered the Charms position when Professor Flitwick decided it was about time he spent more time at home with his wife in quiet retirement. And probably a certain amount of the bedroom fandango, the more ripe senses of humour in the staff room chortled. Flitwick, who had heard some of the innuendo, had smiled good-humouredly, although his ears had gone a shade pink, further fueling the less charitable speculation for his departure. Nonetheless, the diminutive professor had gone on his way with a very nice leaving present indeed, and several hearty slaps on his back along with an enormous 'L' plate, the meaning of which mystified him.

The very next day, a beautiful tawny owl had fluttered against Hermione's flat window in the urban sprawl of one of London's many suburbs, the writing on the parchment revealing itself to be none other than Headmistress McGonagall's, the object of Hermione's nightly fantasies for the last 5 years. She didn't even have to  _think_  about accepting the offer of Charms Professor, which was actually a very senior teaching post, the over riding thought in her mind being that  _she could see Minerva_. After graduating from Hogwarts, Hermione found herself somewhat without purpose. The war against Voldemort had escalated in intensity year on year until it had even overtaken schooling. Take away that purpose in life, and somewhat paradoxically, there was a vacuum. She had thought that studying would show her the way, give her life purpose, take her on a good career. She had discovered that, yes she accumulated knowledge, but it didn't give her the answers her heart desired. A fruitless spell in a minor ministry office had given her plenty of time to reflect ruefully on what exactly her heart did desire. That desire was Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts.

Just thinking of the older witch made Hermione close her eyes in the coolness of her bathroom and exhale sharply. Her pulse jumped as she imagined herself in the intoxicating proximity of the other woman, her hair falling loose from its bun in waves as black as midnight, wafting a faint scent of sandalwood, her emerald eyes narrowing as she returned Hermione's heated gaze. A bewitching smile danced upon the lips of the older witch as she stepped closer, enjoying the power she held over the younger woman, bending her head slightly she grazed her lips along Hermione's cheek up to her ear, whispering heatedly.

"I want you.  _ **Now**_."

Hermione groaned as her eyes flew open. She felt hot all over, her very core throbbed in rhythm with her pulse and the moisture pooling between her thighs left her in no doubt whatsoever of the effect the older witch had on her. Flustered, Hermione ran a hand through her chestnut curls and hoped like hell that no one would be able to tell of her inner turmoil as she left her rooms for breakfast.

Hermione hurried into the Great Hall and made her way along the teachers table, sinking into a seat next to Madam Hooch and Professor Sinistra. She glanced quickly along the table and her heart leapt as she saw the Headmistress deep in conversation with Professor Sprout. As Hermione observed the older witch from beneath lowered eyelashes, the Headmistress turned around, looking directly at her. Something about the quirk of her smile told Hermione that her covert observation had been rumbled. Blushing, Hermione picked up her cup of tea and quickly took a mouthful of the scalding liquid.

A throaty chuckle to one side made her start, and she looked around into the yellow eyes of the sports mistress and flight instructor, Madam Hooch.

As Hermione watched, Hooch sent a thoroughly indecent wink towards the headmistress, who glared back at the spiky haired witch, mouth pursed.

Hermione frostily ignored the smirk Hooch sent her way, who was delighting in the result she had provoked.

"Sooooo," Hooch drawled, as she poured a fresh cup of tea. "When did it start, and if it hasn't, when  _is_  it?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Hermione snapped.

"Tetchy, tetchy," Hooch tutted mockingly. "Sounds like some serious sexual tension going on there…"

"Excuse  _ **me**_!" Hermione stood up abruptly, suddenly desperate to leave the infuriating flight instructor. She also had a nasty feeling that Hooch either liked the headmistress herself or that there was a history there. Dammit….was that jealousy? As she turned to leave the high table, Hermione glanced at the headmistress who had one fine eyebrow arched at the younger professor. Flushing, Hermione muttered a quick "excuse me", and hurried out of the hall.

Back in the Great Hall, Madam Hooch walked casually towards the headmistress, slipping into the seat recently vacated by Professor Sprout.

"Someone was in a hurry," Madam Hooch observed, sipping her tea and casting a narrowed yellow gaze upon the older woman.

Minerva McGonagall shook her head slightly, the severe bun shining in the light of the candles.

"Have you spoken to her since she started?" Hooch buttered a slice of toast with studied disinterest.

"A couple of times obviously, to acquaint her with her teaching timetable and basic rules for staff. Any Charms-specific information would be from Flitwick, as you well know."

"Nothing else?"

Professor McGonagall's emerald gaze settled upon Madam Hooch, suddenly suspicious.

"Why the sudden interest, Rolanda?"

"Nothing, nothing!" The spiky haired witch grinned, an entirely unconvincing look of innocence settling upon her pointed features.

Professor McGonagall sighed, a sudden realization dawning.

"No." She said warningly.

"I don't know what you mean, Minerva." Yellow eyes widened in mock surprise.

"You don't even know…" the older woman hissed, looking furtively behind her and attracting the attention of a grumpy and bored Severus Snape. He gave her a pointed stare, before curling his lip in utter disdain. She shot him a warning look before turning back to a grinning flight instructor.

"I don't have to," Rolanda Hooch whispered back. "The RoHo gaydar never lies!"

"The  _what_?" Professor McGonagall echoed, aghast, hoping against hope she had misheard.

Madam Hooch smiled mischievously. "Plus," she continued with entirely too much enjoyment for Professor McGonagall's liking, "I saw the way she looked at you."

Professor McGonagall blinked. She glanced down at her tea, before looking back up at her colleague.

"Nonsense." She snapped.

"I swear to Merlin," Hooch whispered, leaning closer for privacy. "The way she was looking at you, like there was no one else in the room. She's got it bad!"

Professor McGonagall stiffened. "I'm 60 years older Hooch. Pull yourself together."

"Weeeeeell, if you won't, I'll have a crack!" She winked at the headmistress. "Best looking girl that's been here for a while." She leaned down to the older woman as she buttoned up her leather robe. "I'll be over at midnight as usual," she breathed into the headmistresses ear.

Minerva McGonagall stiffened imperceptibly before giving a curt nod.

"You know you love it really," Hooch murmured as she passed. Emerald eyes narrowed as she bounced out of the hall.

* * *

_Two bodies, consumed by want, crash together. Hungry lips seek out the other, trails of fire across heated skin, hands seeking, exploring, stroking. Breath mingling with breath, murmurs of desire lost in the empty room, passion heightening. Fingers rake through ebony tresses, emerald eyes glitter in the moonlight pouring through the window, the lean body arches and convulses in ecstasy._

Rolanda Hooch turned towards her bedmate.

"Seriously Min, you need to find out about Hermione."

"Stop it," Minerva McGonagall said grumpily.

Not for the first time, Hooch marveled at the difference in the headmistress in her personal life. Minerva McGonagall the headmistress, was a tall, elegantly austere woman, very proper and refined. Stern, but kind and compassionate, yet gave the impression of having been quietly dried out on the stove of education.

By startling contrast, Minerva McGonagall the woman, was a deeply passionate, sensual, sexual creature, loyal, possessive and prone to jealousy, but would fight to the bitter end for a loved one. If Minerva was your partner she made you feel like you were the only woman in the world.

Hooch blinked back a tear as she remembered that her and Minerva were not partners, but…..each others release. Two women, together, at a point in time, with their bodies crying out for the same need. No words, just actions, their bodies speaking the same language.

"Rolanda?" Minerva's voice brought her back to the present.

"Sorry, must have drifted off for a minute there," the flight instructor muttered.

"Are you alright, Rolanda?" The older woman's voice was full of concern as she rested a hand on Hooch's bare shoulder.

"I just…" she began, before lapsing into silence.  _Our chance was years ago….no going back now…_ "It doesn't matter," she said with finality. She forced a smile to her lips, pecking Minerva on the lips and standing up quickly so the older woman couldn't see the emotions betraying her on her face. Minerva didn't look convinced, her piercing green eyes following Hooch as she gathered her clothes.

"I'll see you in the morning," Hooch smiled softly as she let herself out of the headmistresses chambers.

After Hooch left the headmistress flopped back against her pillows and bit her lip as she rolled over to stare out of the leaded window illuminating the room with silvery moonlight. The flight instructor's words replayed through her mind.

"… _you need to find out about Hermione…_ "

The headmistress quietly fumed. Why should Hermione interest her? Just because, according to Hooch (who was the biggest flirt and shameless serial dater going) she might be gay? Even if she was, why should she be interested in her, Minerva? For that matter, it didn't mean  _she_  fancied Hermione…

_Oh but you do…you like her a_ _**lot** _ _…intelligence turns you on…it always has. Hermione has that by the bucket-load…she's the only one who can keep up with you in a debate…how sexy is that? And now she is back at Hogwarts, you can see how sexy she is…those curves should be made illegal…_

The normally staid headmistress couldn't help herself. A hand snaked down her toned stomach, touching those parts of herself where she fantasised Hermione's fingers were. Soft, deft strokes, with increasing intensity as her other hand pinching and stroking her breasts. Breath ragged and perspiration beading on her body, Minerva arched against the sheets as a lustful moan tore from her throat.

Hooch was right. She needed to find out about Hermione.

* * *

_**Comments would be greatly appreciated!** _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Hermione has surprised nobody by accepting the recently vacated position of Charms teacher at Hogwarts. What she hasn't told anyone, or even really reconciled herself with, is that part of the reason is a certain ebony haired, Scottish witch. What she decides to do about it, is anyone's guess…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A shorter update. This is 'filler' to take us to the crux of the story in chapter 3.

**Title** : And I Wonder If You Think Of Me

 **Fandom** : Harry Potter. Post Hogwarts.

 **Rating** : M

 **Pairing** : Minerva McGonagall / Hermione Granger

 **Summary** :  _Hermione has surprised nobody by accepting the recently vacated position of Charms teacher at Hogwarts. What she hasn't told anyone, or even really reconciled herself with, is that part of the reason is a certain ebony haired, Scottish witch. What she decides to do about it, is anyone's guess…_

* * *

 

Hermione Granger tossed and turned in her bed, the smirking face of Rolanda Hooch playing before her mind's eye, mixed in with the disapproving stare of the headmistress, emerald eyes flashing in distaste behind her square spectacles as she saw the flight instructor grinning at her.

Minerva was so unbearably close, yet so far. Hermione realized she didn't know the first thing about the woman's private life, let alone about the headmistress as a person and not as a figure of authority or academic.

_What did she like to drink? Did she listen to music? Were the emerald robes her personal choice in her leisure time too or were they what she would think of as her 'work attire'? What previous partners were there? Had she ever had her heart broken? Was she in love right now?_

Hermione rubbed her face and leaned over to her bedside table, picking up her wand and muttering ' _lumos'_ , glancing at her alarm clock. 2.45am. She groaned. She would be good for nothing in her morning's lessons if she didn't get to sleep fast. Double period with Slytherin 4th years. Even under her blankets she shuddered.

Before coming back to Hogwarts she could, very nearly, pretend that Minerva McGonagall was from a time in her life that she would never return to. She could concentrate on her job, try to see friends, pursue her own interests in a bid to drive the woman from her mind. It had  _almost_ worked. Hogwarts was a bygone time, a time of schooling, of infatuation with mentors because of the closeted existence it gave you. Or so Hermione had told herself.

Leaving had been a rude awakening. Minerva loomed just as large in her thoughts and fantasies after leaving, if not more than before, because she could embellish the fantasies with Minerva initiating something due to Hermione being an ex-pupil, rather than current pupil. Coming back to teach was her cast iron excuse to either find out once and for all if there was any hope, or try to exorcise the woman from her mind.

As her eyes drooped closed around 4am, Hermione muzzily told herself she needed to do something soon, before she went mad, unaware that in the headmistresses quarters, Minerva McGonagall had come to a similar conclusion.

 

* * *

 

At the high table the next morning, Hermione sat feeling utterly dreadful. Her eyes were slightly puffy and ringed with dark shadows due to her acute lack of sleep. Fighting her exhaustion, she leaned across to Madam Pomfrey, the school healer, unaware of the piercing stare emanating from the headmistress further down the table. No such luck escaping the hawk-like gaze of Rolanda Hooch who kicked the headmistress under the table whilst giving her an audacious grin.

"Ro!" Minerva McGonagall hissed. "Stop it!"

"I bet she was thinking of you last night, Min" Hooch exulted gleefully, revelling in her friend's embarrassment and discomfiture.

"Stop it. Now." The headmistresses tone could have etched glass. However, Rolanda Hooch was a woman for whom shame held no shame, and Minerva McGonagall's frozen tones merely amused her further.

"Mmmm. I wonder what she was doing that kept her awake all night…" Hooch mused as she picked up her teacup, giving the stern woman next to her a sly, sideways glance. Because the flight instructor knew the headmistress so well, she could see the effect her words were having. Only a quick blink spoke of the internal turmoil within the older witch. Yet, it was there. Hooch smirked to herself as she looked down the table at the young Charms professor who was deep in conversation with Poppy Pomfrey.

As Hermione and Madam Pomfrey rose from their seats together, the headmistress made a decision and stood up, ignoring Hooch's 'hubba hubba' giggled into her teacup.

The headmistress glided gracefully towards the doors of the Great Hall, patiently waiting for Pomfrey and Hermione. As they made to pass, the headmistress stepped forwards.

"Hermione? May I have a word?"

Surprised, the younger woman blushed, and nodded. Madam Pomfrey nodded to Hermione and the headmistress before heading back to the hospital wing.

"How is your first week going?" Minerva McGonagall gave every impression of engrossment as Hermione recounted her first few lessons. Nodding, she smiled slightly.

"As much I would love to hear more, Hermione, an appointment awaits for me. Am I right in thinking you have a free afternoon today?"

"Yes, Headmistress, after 2 o'clock."

"Then perhaps you may like to join me for some tea?"

Hermione smiled, her heart leaping at the gesture, despite knowing intellectually that she shouldn't read too much into the headmistresses innocent invitation.

Bidding Hermione goodbye, the headmistress walked slowly back to her quarters finalizing in her mind the idea that had been brewing all morning.

* * *

_**Comments?** _


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hermione has surprised nobody by accepting the recently vacated position of Charms teacher at Hogwarts. What she hasn't told anyone, or even really reconciled herself with, is that part of the reason is a certain ebony haired, Scottish witch. What she decides to do about it, is anyone's guess…

Hermione sat down nervously opposite the headmistress in her personal quarters, eyes darting around the attractively furnished space appreciatively. The dark wooden furnishings were offset by richly coloured drapes, deep clarets and golds calling to mind her former role as head of Gryffindor House, and yet the deep sumptuousness of the colours seemed perfectly suited to the complex, powerful woman in whose emerald eyes Hermione wanted to lose herself.

Minerva smiled across the small table at her guest and poured them both a cup of tea, politely pushing a plate of Ginger Newts across too.

After the mandatory small talk was exhausted, Minerva sat back in her seat and stared slightly appraisingly at the younger woman.

"I must confess Hermione, I was a little surprised when you agreed to come back to teach," the headmistress allowed a small quirk of her lip, noting the blush staining the young woman's cheeks.

"Pleased, of course, " she added hastily, "it's not often you meet intellect like yours, but surprised nonetheless."

"Um, why headmistress?"

"Minerva, please."

"...Minerva..."

Minerva pursed her lips thoughtfully. "I think the general feeling was that whatever you would do, it wouldn't be shutting yourself away here at the start of your working life." A small smile took the sting out of the headmistresses words, but Hermione felt them nevertheless. Her heart thudded in her chest, as she sought an answer that didn't involve admitting her, oh so  _inappropriate_ , but so  _real_ , affection.

"Ummm..." Uncharacteristically, the young witch seemed at a loss for words. Minerva wrinkled her brow slightly as she looked coolly at the young woman opposite. There was something most definitely wrong with Hermione, and, if Rolanda Hooch was to be believed,  _she herself_ was the reason. Minerva sighed to herself. In the cold light of day, this whole situation seemed preposterous, not to mention dangerous, and Minerva was not a lady to ever take risks – certainly not ones that involved messy things like feelings. What felt like an epiphany last night, in her still lust-addled mind, was nothing short of foolhardiness now. Having this young woman in front of her, clearly wrestling with her own feelings and conscience, was doing nothing to clear her own mind. Minerva stifled another sigh. At least she should shortly know exactly what Hermione felt, if anything, about her. There was always that.

* * *

Hermione stared blankly at the class of Hufflepuff third years, all studying their textbooks with entirely too much concentration for her liking. A tall boy near the back raised his hand, glancing quickly at his partner as he did so.

"Uh, Professor Granger?"

"Yes, Hamish?"

The red headed boy swallowed nervously.

"I've finished the chapter Professor..." he visibly shrank under her stare. Wasn't she supposed to be a Gryffindor? How come she was acting all Slytherin on everybody?

The Professor stood up behind her desk and surveyed the classroom, placing her hands on her hips.

"Well?" She demanded. "Is Hamish the  _only_  one who has completed this chapter?"

A silence descended, the only noise being a muffled cough as a pale girl near the front turned scarlet trying to restrain her coughing.

"Your homework is to complete this chapter, complete with the exercises at the end, as well as the next chapter." A chorus of groans arose. "Which was to be your homework in any event," she said meaningfully, "once you had completed chapter 3 in class."

Hermione sat back down and shuffled some parchment on her desk. "I expect it to be in by 9am tomorrow. You may leave."

The class rose to their feet with alacrity, none of the students wanting to either be last or to be the subject of Professor Granger's stare. After a brief, undignified struggle, during which 4 students became jammed in the classroom doorway in their haste to exit, Hermione found herself alone in the classroom. She stared unseeingly down at the parchment on her desk, the tortured missives of her prior class swimming meaninglessly before her eyes.

What had she expected, really? A fairy tale declaration that Minerva harboured lesbian feelings? A fairy tale was just that, a fairy tale. A lie of a fantasy realm for children to keep the magic of childhood just that little bit longer.  _Think logically_ , Hermione urged herself. If she doesn't, er, like, women, then she won't be interested full stop. If she does, then there's no guarantee she will necessarily like  _you_  anyway. She might like older women herself, or more butch, or blonde, or redheads…..put it this way, if she is, by some huge stretch of imagination, a lesbian herself, then that is no guarantee she will go for  _you_. So get real. So why can't I stop this feeling I get when I'm around her, like I'm 11 years old again and i'm desperate to impress her, and i'll do  _anything_  just to see her smile and see the approval in her eyes…

Hermione raised her head with a start. She hadn't realised her head had dropped into her hands and she automatically glanced at the door of the classroom to check that she was still alone. Running her hand distractedly through her curls she gathered up her rolls of parchment and exited the classroom, intent on a hot bath and glass of wine to try to unwind before dinner. She walked slowly down the corridor, mulling over her increasingly pessimistic thoughts, when she heard low voices coming from a nearby classroom, that she identified as none other than the Transfiguration classroom.

"…are you going again?"

This voice sounded like the Flight Instructor and Quidditch Coach, Rolanda Hooch. Hermione's lip unconsciously curled at that thought and she held her breath.

"Oh yes, it was a surprisingly pleasant evening.  _Quite_  against all expectation." A small chuckle accompanied this remark, one that Hermione realised belonged to Minerva McGonagall.

"Oh Rolanda, before I forget, the Daily Prophet will be arriving tomorrow. Apparently the Ministry is keen to focus on the importance of education and career opportunities. They are starting with us." The headmistresses grim voice spoke volumes about her thoughts on the matter.

A snort from the sports mistress broke the silence. "Not Rita Skeeter? Better keep Severus under wraps then!"

The sound of both women's laughter rang in Hermione's ears as she hurried away from the Transfiguration classroom, all thoughts of her bath forgotten.

Inside the classroom, yellow eyes sought out emerald, and two pairs of lips curled in surprisingly similar smiles, the classroom door slamming shut.

* * *

_**Comments always welcome!** _


End file.
